Once a man lived alone and was terribly afraid of the dark;
When twilight filled his home, terror filled his heart.
Then one day he received a gift marked, 'Fragile, handle with care'.
Upon seeing what was inside, his eyes filled with tears.
It was a lovely antique lamp with graceful flowing lines;
It's value was far above mention, for it had stood the test of time.
The man said within himself, 'What a precious, precious gift;
I will put it out of harms way, high upon this shelf.'
So there the lamp did sit as years and years went by,
And still the man struggled with fear each day as night drew nigh.
Then one day he had an idea, 'What a fool I've been', he said with hope;
'The lamp needs only to be filled with oil; that will help me in the darkness cope.
For having the lamp ready to use will surely dispel, in part,
The awful fear I experience at twilight, deep in my heart'.
So again the lamp was placed, now oiled and ready to serve,
Upon that high, high shelf, in case he should loose his nerve.
But still the battle raged and fear took control of him
Each lonely evening tide when the light of the sun grew dim.
'What good is it to me', he cried, 'to possess this lovely gift,
And still to live in agony until the shadows lift?'
In desperation he took an ember and touched the soft wick part;
Longed for light flooded his home, and relief flooded his heart;
Joy bubbled up inside him, on his lips there was a song;
His only sad regret was that he had waited so long.
Now, what is the moral here? Is there aught that we can learn
From the man with the lovely lamp who would not let it burn?
The lamp is our salvation, and the oil is fervent prayer;
To light the wick an act of faith; as the darkness fled, so will our cares.